


Gustatory

by Nemainofthewater



Series: Timeship Week 2019 [1]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Attempts at humour, Don't copy to another site, Episode: s02e16 Doomworld, F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, RipFic, Timeship Week 2019, a smidge of angst, weird food
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-09-06 17:17:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20295151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nemainofthewater/pseuds/Nemainofthewater
Summary: To stop Rip drinking his time away while trapped on the Waverider during 'Doomworld', Gideon proposes that they try something else to keep him occupied. Namely making his way down a list of exotic foods.





	Gustatory

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Timeship Week 2019-Day 1: Doomworld Day. 
> 
> I'm so excited that it's finally started!

“You can’t go on like this, Captain,” Gideon said.

“On the contrary, Gideon,” Rip said, squinting blearily down at the bottle in his hand, “I think you’ll find that I can.”

It had been two weeks since Rip had woken in the Waverider, once again alone. Trapped. Unable to escape, unable to communicate. He hadn’t even been able to access any information about the new world that Thawne had brought about. He had no idea what had happened to his crew, what the Legion of Doom had done to them.

The only thing that had kept him sane as he tried (and failed) to find out something, anything, as he tried to ignore the walls closing in on him and ruthlessly pushed the memories of being trapped in his own mind down…the only thing that kept him same was Gideon. Beautiful Gideon, who hadn’t been a part of that nightmare world. Gideon who had been his constant companion for almost half his life. Well, Gideon and a copious amount of alcohol. Anything to stop the dreams.

“Looking at the amount of alcohol you’ve already consumed, at your current rate you’re going to run out in three months. And you’re going to give yourself alcohol poisoning in two.”

Gideon’s clinical tone softened, and she continued: “Please don’t do that to me, Captain. You’re not the only one trapped here.”

“I can’t just give up,” he said unsteadily, “There must be a way, something that I can do to find them.”

“I’m not saying that you have to,” Gideon said, “You are brilliant. And I have no doubt that the other Legends with find their own way back. We just have to be ready and waiting for them. And that means,” her voice grew stern, “Not dying of liver failure beforehand.”

Rip sniffed. “I do think that I would get myself to the medbay before dying of liver failure,” he murmured, “But I do see your point, Gideon.”

“Then you’ll stop drinking so much?”

“I’ll…try.”

“That’s all I can ask for.”

Rip sighed. “You’re going to need to think of something else I can do then, Gideon. Because I doubt that you’d allow me to work all the time either, and there’s only so much staring at walls I can do before I go mad.”

There was a pause, long enough for Rip to half-regret handing the choice over to Gideon. Only half, because while he knew that she had an…unusual sense of humour, she wasn’t going to suggest anything that scarred him too badly.

“I propose trying a selection of exotic foods,” she said finally, “Allowing you a chance to experience other cultures while making sure that you eat.”

“…exotic foods,” Rip said flatly, “This wouldn’t have anything to do with that article that Jax showed you. The one that led with you sabotaging the fabricator for three days so that it wouldn’t produce anything but spam?”

“Of course not, Captain. That was just a software error.”

“I had to manually override the machine!”

“A very virulent error,” Gideon said piously, “Probably something that Mr Rory downloaded alongside his porn.”

“And that’s why you have apparently already programmed all this exotic food into the fabricator?”

“All the food on the list is standard Time Master fare,” Gideon said, innocently. Too innocently.

“I don’t want to know,” Rip said, “And I don’t trust you. With the important things, yes, but not with this. But… I suppose that I haven’t anything better to do. And the misery of trying whatever you or this website think is exotic food might be a welcome break from the monotony of failing to re-establish communications with the outside world.”

“Once a week,” Gideon said, “Every Friday evening. I wouldn’t want to overwhelm your delicate constitution.”

“You’re one to talk,” Rip said, “If you were able to eat, I doubt you’d be able to handle anything other than chocolate. Judging by what you fed Jonas whenever he was on the ship.”

Neither of them drew attention to the fact that Rip’s voice broke on his son’s name.

‘In any case,” he continued, “I don’t see why we shouldn’t start right away. Get it over with.”

“You’re rather inebriated, Captain. I doubt that you’d be able to find the galley in your state, never mind operate the fabricator. In fact, you should report to medbay so that I can heal you of your latest round of liver damage.”

“Nonsense!” Rip said stumbling upright, “I am perfectly sobe-”

He tripped over the trailing ends of his dressing gown and went down with a bang, his mostly-empty bottle falling from his hand and bouncing forlornly across the carpet.

Gideon didn’t say anything. It was a very judgemental silence.

“Yes, yes,” Rip muttered, “Medbay.”

**Chicken’s feet**

“They’re rather nice, actually,” Rip said, determinedly chewing. He had been chewing for the past five minutes and couldn’t feel much difference. Painfully, he swallowed and felt the cartilage slide slowly down his throat.

“I don’t know what the fuss is,” he croaked. He eyes the remaining food on his plate with dismay. The sauce was rather nice, but his jaw was already aching from the first mouthful and he was not looking forward to finishing the food on his piled plate.

Grimacing, he raised the next forkful to his mouth.

Gideon burst out laughing. “You’re not meant to chew it, Rip,” she said, “You’re meant to suck the sauce off and then spit the bones out.”

“What! When were you planning on telling me that?”

“I just did,” Gideon said peacefully, “In any case, I didn’t want to stop you. You looked like you were having fun.”

**Haggis**

“I don’t see how this qualified for an exotic food list,” Rip said, spooning another mouthful of haggis into his mouth, “It’s rather nice.”

“You’ve put so much HP sauce on it that it’s a miracle that you can taste anything,” Gideon said.

Rip paused in the act of shaking the bottle over his plate. “Is there any other way to eat it?”

**Tripe**

“Well,” Rip said with a sigh, looking at his plate, “Although this does bring back unpleasant childhood memories, I still wouldn’t qualify it as ‘exotic’.”

**Khash (stewed cows’ feet and head)**

Rip stared at the plate in betrayal. He gingerly poked a suspicious looking lump.

“Try not to chew these, Captain,” Gideon said, “You’d probably break your teeth.”

“You make one mistake,” he grumbled, resolutely trying to find an edible piece of meat that wasn’t cartilage.

“You’re the one who complained when I didn’t warn you last time,” Gideon said, “I’m just doing what you asked.”

**Tuna eyeballs**

“Try not to think about them staring at you,” Gideon said helpfully.

“Yes, thank you for that Gideon,” Rip said, placing one in his mouth. He bit down.

“Oh,” he said faintly, “How…crunchy.”

**Black pudding**

“This is just insulting,” Rip said, tucking in to his portion, “Black pudding is in no way exotic.” He narrowed his eyes at the ceiling, “Gideon,” he asked, “Is this an American list that we’re following?”

“…perhaps…”

“Hmph. Figures. Bloody Americans.”

But at least he got to eat something palatable for once. Could do with some bacon though. Maybe some baked beans. Mmm. A full fry up: he hadn’t had one of those in a while.

He opened his mouth-

“No Captain,” Gideon said, “Think about your cholesterol levels. Your blood pressure is already dangerously high.”

Rip sighed. “Do you blame me?” he grumbled, “Looking at what I have to put up with?”

There was a frosty silence, and Rip backpeddled quickly.

“I didn’t mean you, Gideon!” he said, “Indeed, you’re the only thing keeping me sane.”

There was a clunk, and a plate filed with fried mushrooms came out of the fabricator.

“Thank you,” Rip said meekly, and ate his dinner.

**Spam**

“Well,” Rip said, glaring at the plate in distaste, “This is bringing back rather unpleasant memories.”

Living on a ship with only one toilet, after three days of only spam… He shuddered. He was lucky that the consequences hadn’t been messier than they were.

**Hakarl (rotting shark carcass)**

He took a bite, careful not to breath in. Chewed. Swallowed.

“…not bad,” he said.

“Are you sure, Captain? You’re going rather pale. Are you feeling sick?”

“No,” Rip lied, convulsively swallowing in case the shark came back up, “I’m fine. What a…lovely delicacy.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Gideon said serenely.

A moment of silence as Rip stared at the plate.

“Aren’t you going to finish?” Gideon asked. She was laughing at him, he knew it. Well. There was only one way out of this.

“Oh no,” he said, accidentally knocking the plate off the table, then surreptitiously stamping on the remains, “How unfortunate.”

Yes, Gideon was definitely laughing at him.

**Surstromming (fermented herring)**

“Still not as bad as the shark.”

**100-year-old egg**

Rip poked moodily at the egg in front of him. It was a rather alarming colour, but that wasn’t the problem. He speared a piece, and placed it in his mouth, chewing mechanically.

“Are you alright, Rip?” Gideon asked.

“Fine. Bloody perfect,” Rip snapped. He took another bite.

“I can see that,” Gideon said.

He scowled at the egg in front of him, chopping it into smaller and smaller pieces with his knife until there was nothing left but brown crumbs.

**Stinkheads (fermented salmon head)**

“It’s just,” he said, staring into the gaping mouth and glassy eyes of the salmon, “It’s been three months. And I still haven’t managed to make any progress.”

“I have complete faith in you,” Gideon said, “If anyone can do it, you can, Captain.”

“But I can’t,” Rip snapped, “And there’s no sign of the Legends. Even Thawne hasn’t deigned to visit. I’m afraid-I’m afraid that I’m going to die here. Alone. Forgotten. Useless.”

He swallowed, pushing his plate away from him.

“You’re not alone,” Gideon said, “I promise that I’ll be with you. Always.”

“I know,” Rip muttered, looking down.

“You should probably start earning your keep though, Captain,” Gideon continued, “I’m feeling very undervalued. I provide a delicious meal-”

“Delicious??”

“-an edible meal every week, and what do I get in return? Nothing. Not even a thank you.”

“I could argue about the edibility of the meals that you’ve provided,” Rip said.

“Remember that I’m in charge of the menu for date nights,” Gideon said, “There are worse things than fermented fish.”

Rip snorted.

‘I highly doubt that,” he said.

**Shiokara (raw bits of meat fermented in their own viscera)**

“You know,” Rip said, taking another spoonful of the brown paste, “This really isn’t bad. Tastes a lot like anchovies. What is it?”

“Well,” Gideon said, “It’s not fermented fish.”

Rip paused. There was something in her voice…

“…What is it,” he said, resignedly setting his fork down on the plate. He was pretty certain that he didn’t want to know. But not knowing would be worse.

Gideon told him.

He was right. He didn’t want to know. And he resolved to check exactly what was in each dish before eating it.

**Jing Leed (crickets)**

“Pretty crunchy,” Rip say, taking another handful, “And distressingly moresome.”

**Wasp crackers**

Rip lay on his back, staring up at the generator. That still refused to work no matter what he did. He had spent the last two months trying to get this stupid bloody machine to work. And it wouldn’t. It just…sat there useless.

It was hard not to emphasise with the generator.

He wanted to punch something.

He knew that it wouldn’t help.

It might make him feel better.

It probably wouldn’t.

With a groan, he fell back, head thumping against the cold metal grating of the floor.

“Gideon,” he said tiredly, “Talk to me.”

“Of course, Rip,” Gideon said, “Have you had a chance to look at the food that you’ll be eating this Friday?”

“No,” Rip said, “But I have no doubt that it’ll be horrifying.”

“You’ll be consuming a Japanese snack called wasp crackers.”

“Hah. As I said. Horrifying. Tell me about them?”

“Digger wasps are collected, boiled in water, dried and then sprinkled over a rice cracker mix…”

**Fried tarantula spider**

He closed his eyes. Took a bite.

“Not bad,” he said, eyes still firmly closed, “It tastes a bit bland, but the texture isn’t awful.”

“Aren’t you going to open your eyes, Rip?”

He snorted.

“I’ve learnt my lesson on that one,” he said. And then he kept chewing.

**Witchetty grub**

“it reminds me of fried chicken skin,” Rip said, chewing thoughtfully, “I suppose that I should be thankful you let me eat the roasted grubs, and didn’t make me eat them raw.”

“Would I do that to you?”

“If you thought it was funny? Yes, absolutely.”

**Escamol (edible larvae of ants)**

“My files describe this as not dissimilar in taste to cottage cheese,” Gideon said cheerfully, “What do you think, Captain?”

“I think your files are wrong,” Rip said, “Although it isn’t an unpleasant taste. At least next time Mr Rory leaves crumbs on the floor and we get an ant infestation, there’ll be some upside to it.”

**Beondegi (silkworm)**

“Mostly texture, not a lot of taste,” Rip said. He was becoming surprisingly nonchalant about eating insects. Barely even flinched anymore.

**Escargots**

“Why Gideon,” Rip said, “You must be losing your touch. This is rather nice.”

And it was. The snails had been lightly sautéed in butter and garlic and were lightly steaming on the plate. For some reason, the lights had been dimmed (maybe there had been another power failure?) and the galley was lit with a soft glow, almost like candlelight. There was a dish of fresh, green, asparagus, also sautéed in browned butter.

“Evidentially I’m luring you into a false sense of security,” Gideon said, deadpan.

“Of course you are,” Rip said. 

**Sago delight (grubs)**

“You really were,” he said, staring at the plate.

“You’ve eaten insects before,” Gideon said, “In fact I remember you saying that they ‘weren’t that bad’ a few weeks ago.”

“Well, that was before you let me have a proper meal for once,” he said. He picked up a grub and placed it into his mouth.

“Tastes a bit like bacon.”

**Stink bugs**

“Damn it! Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Rip collapsed against the wall. He needed a drink. He couldn’t have a drink. Because of he started he would never stop. A shudder ran through him.

“Captain?” Gideon said, and Rip grabbed on to her voice like a life line. And it was. Gideon was the only thing that kept him from crawling into a bottle and staying there.

Because Thawne had won. He’d won, damn it.

“Tell me about what I’m going to be eating this Friday,” he said hoarsely, “It’s more insects, right?”

“Indeed,” Gideon said, “Interestingly, the bugs release their defensive pheromones at the moment of their death…”

**Mopane worms**

“Close your eyes,” Rip said.

“Rip,” Gideon said patiently, “I don’t have any eyes.”

He rolled his eyes: “Then do whatever it is that you did when you told me that you had no idea how Jonas had eaten my entire stash of Cadbury’s.”

He waited a moment.

“Have you closed them?” he asked after a moment.

“Yes.”

Carefully opening a cupboard that he had taken great pains to pay no attention to throughout the day, he removed a cake. It wasn’t anything fancy: it had been a while since he had baked anything, and he was rather out of practice. But covered with a clean, professional looking white icing that concealed a rather decadent chocolate cake and topped with a spun sugar and fondant model of the Waverider it did look rather good if he did say so himself. He really didn’t want to admit how many failed prototypes were concealed in carious cubbyholes around the ship.

He cleared his throat nervously.

“You can open your eyes now,” he said.

There was a pause.

“Oh,” said Gideon.

“You don’t like it,” Rip said, “I-Yes, I realise that it’s been a while, but I-”

“Captain,” Gideon said, “With all due respect, shut up and let me enjoy my gift.”

“You like it then,” he said, trying to conceal his nervousness.

“I love it,” Gideon said, “So hurry up and finish your worms and cut me a slice.”

** <strike>Tequila worm</strike> **

“Come on, Gideon!” Rip said. He was aware that he was coming dangerously close to whining. He didn’t really care.

“No,” Gideon replied, implacable.

“It’s on your list,” Rip said, “Number 23, tequila worm. Which, by necessity, requires tequila.”

“I believe you’ll find that it requires mescal. And the answer is still no. There’s no use pouting at me Captain. You forget that I knew you when you were still fresh from the academy. More to the point, I knew your son. After Jonas, pouting has no effect on me.”

Rip raised an eyebrow.

“You always gave Jonas whatever he wanted. Most of the time against my express command.”

By the end of the evening, Rip had been granted one shot glass worth of mescal, complete with worm. Although Gideon had also forbidden him looking at the list any more, claiming that he was abusing his privileges.

Tipping it back and wincing at the burn, he wondered whether it was worth it.

**Marmite**

“You’ve got to be joking. Fucking Americans.”

**Pickled egg**

“Seriously, who the hell wrote this list?”

**Bird’s nest soup**

The liquid dropped off his spoon with a _plop_.

“This looks like mucus,” Rip said flatly. He raised the spoon to his mouth and took a small mouthful.

“And it doesn’t taste like much,” he continued.

“Well, it is made almost entirely out of swallow saliva,” Gideon said cheerfully.

The spoon dropped to the table with a clatter.

**Fugu (puffer fish)**

“I would rather be killed by you than anyone else,” Rip said, before dramatically placing the morsel of fish in his mouth, chewing, and then swallowing. He shuddered, body spasming slightly before he collapsed onto his chair. His shuddering continued for a few more seconds before he finally fell still.

“While I admire your acting abilities, Captain,” Gideon said, “We both know full well that I wouldn’t have fabricated any tetrodotoxin. Not unless you were being particularly annoying.”

**Steak tartare**

“Finally! A decent meal,” Rip said, tucking in.

“I even fabricated you chips to go with it.”

“Gideon, you are a marvel.”

**Cherry blossom meat (horsemeat)**

“Honestly, this is rather good.”

**Frog legs**

“Really, you’ve been spoiling me Gideon. Four decent meals in a row?”

**Kangaroo**

Rip stepped back warily. The last couple of times he had got this far, the thermal couplers had blown on him. But…everything was looking good, fingers crossed. Carefully, ready to throw the breakers at any moment, he poured a little more power into the system. Slow and steady, that was the way.

Slowly, ever so slowly, he increased the output. 5%. 7%. 10%. All the way up to 15% before he noticed a the first few sparks, and gently shut the power back down.

“Congratulations,” Gideon said, “The preliminary test was unmitigated success. All you need to do now is stabilise the communications array.”

“It’s a start,” Rip said, irrationally worried that if he acknowledged how much of a breakthrough this was it would all (literally) explode in his face.

“It’s genius,” Gideon said firmly, “And now it’s time for you to stop working.”

“Gideon,” Rip said, pushing his safety goggles back off his face, sweeping his sweat-drenched hair off his face, “I have so much more work to do.”

“Rip. You’ve been working non-stop for the past seven hours. It’s time for you to have a break.”

“But-”

“Rip,” she repeated firmly, “It’s a Friday. You have a date to keep.”

Rip paused.

“Ah,” he said, “I suppose that I do.”

**Crocodile**

“This is actually immensely satisfying,” Rip said, tucking into his food with relish.

“You’re going to have to get over it someday,” Gideon replied, voice warm and curled around Rip’s heart like a cosy blanket on a cold, midwinter’s day.

“Darling Gideon,” Rip said, “There is no conceivable way that I will ever get over being almost eaten by a crocodile.”

**Southern fried rattlesnake**

There was a crunch, and Rip winced. Coughing slightly, he spat out another small bone onto his plate. Grabbing his glass, he took another long swallow of water, hoping to clear his oesophagus.

“If you wanted to kill me,” he said, “You should have stuck to the pufferfish. Choking really is an ignoble way to go.”

**Guinea pig**

“This just reminds me of the month I was stranded in Celtic Britain and had to live off rabbit,” Rip said.

“I don’t recall that incident.”

“You stranded me there!”

“As I said, I don’t recall,” Gideon said primly, “But if I did, I’m sure I had a good reason for it.”

“I accidentally jettison the chocolate stash. That’s all!”

“As I said. A very good reason.”

**Turtle soup**

“75% power,” Rip said.

And it didn’t look like the communications array was under any strain. No sparks, no explosions, and no fires. Still, after ten minutes of functionality, he shut off the power. Just in case.

“I really think we can do this,” he said, “In short bursts at least. And I have a few more ideas to increase capacity.”

He felt himself grin, wide and unrestrained for what felt like the first time in years. A laugh bubbled out of him, free and gleeful and perhaps a tad hysterical. Tearing his goggles off his face, he slung them over a handy pipe.

“So Gideon,” he said, “What’s on the menu this evening?”

**Starfish**

“The meat is green,” he said.

“Yes, Rip,” Gideon repeated, “It’s meant to be that colour.”

“But…it’s _green_,” he said helplessly, and not for the first, second, or even third time.

Gideon sighed.

“Yes Captain,” she said fondly, “It’s green.”

**Rocky mountain oysters (testicals)**

“It’s slightly disturbing how good these taste,” Rip said, placing another bite in his mouth.”

“It’s an efficient use of resources,” Gideon said.

“I’m not saying it isn’t,” he replied, “It’s just…” he swallowed convulsively around his mouthful. It tasted like venison.

“Strange,” he finished weakly.

** <strike>Balut (developing duck embryo boiled alive in their shell)</strike> **

“I absolutely refuse.”

**Dragon in the flame of desire (yak’s penis)**

“You’re doing this on purpose,” Rip said. Why did it have to look so…penis-like?

“You’ve eaten worse things,” Gideon said.

“That’s not the point,” Rip said.

Gingerly, he picked it up.

“I don’t suppose there’s any way I can bow out of this?” he asked resignedly.

“Not a chance.”

**Shirako (cod’s sperm sac)**

“Now I know that you’re laughing at me!”

** <strike>Cobra heart</strike> **

“No! Just. No.”

**Casu Marzu (maggot cheese)**

"..."

**<strike>Ying yang fish</strike>(fish that has been fried and kept alive)**

“No,” Rip said, staring at the description. Fish that had been deep fried, carefully kept alive as they were eaten… “Just no. What is wrong with people?”

**<strike>Sannakji</strike>(tentacles hacked off a live baby octopus)**

“Seriously Gideon, what the bloody buggering fuck is this?”

** <strike>Drunken shrimp</strike> **

“Why is the world like _this_?”

**Shark fin soup**

“Not terrible,” Rip said, “But not worth mutilating hundreds of sharks.”

**Bushmeat**

“Why won’t you be more specific than ‘bushmeat’,” he asked suspiciously.

Gideon stayed silent.

“Gideon? What am I eating? Gideon!”

**Whale**

“100% efficiency,” Gideon said, “I knew you could do it.”

Rip flipped the switch, and the array blinked on. Perfectly.

“That’s it,” he said, “It’s broadcasting a signal. All we can do now is wait and hope that the Legends pick it up.”

**Dog **

“I realise that it’s psychological,” Rip said, mournfully staring at his plate, “And that this didn’t actually come from a dog. But…I can’t help but think of Bernard.”

“Mr Hex did have a very cute dog,” Gideon agreed.

** <strike>Cat</strike> **

The lights flared.

“Full power restored,” Gideon said, “And I’m picking up a signal from the other Legends.”

“Oh thank god,” Rip said, shoving the plate he had been staring at for the past ten minutes away from him.

“It’s just as well,” Gideon said, “We’ve run out of food to try anyway.”

**Author's Note:**

> I am on Tumblr as [Nemainofthewater ](https://nemainofthewater.tumblr.com)


End file.
